Once Upon A Summer's Eve
by Anya2
Summary: Set shortly before Robin’s return...A harvest festival celebration on a warm late summer evening is just what a weary Marian needs.Allan meanwhile can only think of free food and wine and the possibility of a kiss from a fine lady. MarianAllan preseries
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Once Upon A Summer's Eve  
**Rating:** PG-13**  
Pairings: **Marian/Allan (no that's not a typo)**  
Spoilers:** None really. Very minor ones for one throwaway line  
**Summary:** Set shortly before Robin's return...A harvest festival celebration on a warm late summer evening is just what a weary Marian needs.

The harvest moon was full and bright in the sky; so much so that the lanterns were almost unnecessary. Its spell seemed to be magnetic and its allure hypnotising for since she had spotted it hanging heavily in the sky and had paused to take a proper look, Marian had found herself unable to leave her window, willing to watch the celebrations below but somehow as yet incapable of joining them. Times had been hard and fortunes poor these last few years. Whilst the harvest was not as abundant as it had been in the past, it was solid at least – enough to see most families through the winter – which was definitely cause for celebration.

Not that such matters affected her of course. As the daughter of a noble, she never went hungry, no matter what the state of the year's harvest nor how much the Sheriff raised his taxes. She did not have to worry each day about scraping together enough so that those she loved would not starve, feeding them scraps that a dog could barely live on. Perhaps that was why she felt slightly ill at ease about joining in the merriment – she felt like a hypocrite. She feared that they would see her as one of the nobles descended down from upon high to smile at peasants, unable to fully appreciate the reason for their joy since she could not possibly understand the depths of their troubles. Even her exploits as the Night Watchman failed to comfort her nor could they rid her of the feeling that she had no right to this celebration nor share in their joy.

In truth though that was nothing new. She often felt like she did not belong, a feeling that assaulted her all the more frequently of late. The friends of her childhood were all married now and gone away, happy wives and happy husbands, many with happy faced children to match. Yet she was still here, consigning herself to a life of cold detachment from whomever risked getting too close, all because a foolish, selfish boy had gone to war and had broken her heart. She had been so hurt at first, shed uncountable tears over too many nights, but that was soon replaced by anger and then a bitterness that had never quite left even with the passing of time and growing wisdom. It certainly did not help that she couldn't seem to find her place in this world – try as she might to quash her more foolish desires, she could not help but want more than she was able to have, want to do more than society would allow her. The frustration of it left her with such deep ill feeling in her heart that she often struggled to remember what it was like to be without it. To remember what it was like to be a carefree girl under the protection of a powerful father, with a charming betrothed and nothing to worry about in the world. Perhaps it was this discontentment that made such merry scenes as those below her so hard to stomach.

Still it was good to see the people happy. The spread of meat, bread, cheese and vegetables was by no means a feast for so large a group of revellers but at least everyone would eat well today and no belly should ache from hunger that night. Her father had been most gracious to supply as many casks of ale and wine as he could reasonable afford, enough for each man to drink several flagons worth at least. He had also procured the services of the musicians who usually played at the castle and the combination of alcohol and music had led to a group of men to start singing in a rousing if somewhat unmusical manner.

_We've ploughed and sowed__  
We've__ reaped and mowed  
__And we've gathered in the clover.__  
And every man will take his can  
__And__ neatly toss it over.  
__Now drink, boys, drink, and if you spill  
__You__ shall have two, it is our master's will._

A cheer rang out as they finished which quickly turned into laughter as one man's over enthusiastic raising of his tankard to toast caused him to topple backwards off of the bench he was standing upon. Despite herself Marian smiled a little too but it faded to a puzzled look as she caught sight of a second man who put an arm out to help his fallen drinking comrade up. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him – although she could not help but think that he was certainly handsome – instead the defining feature which had given her pause was that he was a stranger. Marian made a point of at least knowing the faces of those who lived around her and she was sure that she had never seen this man before.

Perhaps he could feel her studying eyes upon him, for as he slapped his companion on the back in a jovial manner his gaze shifted towards her window, his eyes fixing straight upon her. Unlike most would have done in the circumstance he did not look away out of courtesy or embarrassment but instead a smile came to his lips and brought a look of roguish mischief to his face. In spite of herself Marian found herself smiling in return.

Suddenly the door behind her opened and she turned to see her father standing there. Fortunately, with her back to the window blocking much of the light he could not see the flush of embarrassment that briefly tainted her cheeks.

"Come along, Marian," he said, looking much happier than she could recall seeing him in a long time, "You are missing the festivities."

"You look like you are enjoying them well enough for both of us," she said with a slight tease, recovering her composure quickly.

"True," he admitted with a nod and a small laugh, "And why not? It is good to see everyone so merry. But I would be even more content should you decide to join us."

She smiled in return, remembering once more that she was lucky to have such a father and trying to remind herself that her lot in life was perhaps so bad after all.

"I believe it would do us both good."

She turned momentarily to close her shutters, surprising even herself when her eyes searched briefly once more for the man she had spotted. She was certainly a little disappointed to find him gone.

The feeling soon faded however when she and her father stepped out of their door and joined the festivities. He was right, there was something intoxicating about the merriment around them. So much so that it could even lift her increasingly dour spirits and send the chill from her heart.

People greeted her merrily as she walked passed them and she forgot her troubles completely when a little girl, with some prodding from her mother, dashed up to her and handed her a corn dolly, rather proudly proclaiming that it was gift for the lady. She knelt down to thank the girl, her heart warming at the simple sign of acceptance and unaware that a pair of blue eyes was watching her with increasing curiosity.


	2. Chapter 2

"Easy my friend," Allan said with a broad grin as he dragged the fallen man to his feet, ale splashing out of his comrade's tankard as he unsteadily rose.

He slapped the man heartily on the back, laughing as the fellow called for more drink. Like he hadn't already had more than his share.

Allan made friends easily. Or at least he did a fine job at the pretence of being friends especially when such friendships worked to his advantage. He'd only been in the area a few days before he'd heard of the upcoming festival and the lure of free food and drink had enticed him. It was certainly a better way of getting a meal than poaching, thievery or deception. He didn't exactly fancy being chased out of the village as soon as he showed up though and so he had made sure that he'd acquired many friends in the tavern during the last few days to ensure he'd be quite welcome when the festivities came round.

And it was all very jovial. These people knew how to throw a party he had to give them that. Fine drink, hearty food, jolly music and friendly locals...he was beginning to believe that there was only one thing possibly missing when he felt the weight of a gaze upon him.

Living his life as he did had made him acutely aware of when he was being watched - a necessary survival skill really – and he turned his head straight to the source, a broad grin immediately alighting his face.

He had just been starting to think that beautiful company was the only thing lacking in this pleasant scene and there she was, as fine a lady as he had ever laid eyes on. A proper lady too, mistress of the house no doubt, looking down upon him from what was likely her bedroom window. Raven haired and pale moonlight skin, for a moment she seemed somehow impossible and distant, like she wasn't quite real. It was only when she smiled in return that she seemed to come to life and he was convinced he wasn't imagining things after so long without female company.

She disappeared shortly after and he was mightily sorry of it. It would have indeed been good to have something nice to look at even if she was really beyond his reach. The more adventurous part of him said that it would be fun to test that reach, to see if she was in fingertip distance after all. It would certainly be a grand prize to take away from this place and a fitting end to such a fine evening, a kiss from that lady.

He knew he must have drunken a little too much when the voice in his head counselling him against that plan sounded so unconvincing despite the obvious dangers.

And so he took it as a sign when she appeared from the door of the large house moments later, accompanied by an older man who was either her father or very fortunate husband. Whatever the truth it didn't really matter; fate had clearly deemed it perfectly reasonable on this night for him to try for that kiss and who was he to argue with fickle Mistress Fate?

* * *

Marian looked a little hesitantly down at the cup of wine in her hands as the baker passed it to her. 

"Drink up, Milady," he said with beaming encouragement, "Tonight is a celebration for us all."

She smiled in return and began to sip, feeling the liquid making her instantly feel even more light headed than she already did. It was only her second small cup but that was clearly enough. She should have eaten something, that much was obvious, but she couldn't seem to bring herself to deny food from those who deserved and needed it more than she. At least the wine had been brought by her father and she could take that in good faith.

She continued to sip slowly, counselling herself against being too foolish and trying to keep a level head. The atmosphere around her though was somewhat intoxicating and that made constraint all the more difficult. Even her father seemed to feel it, sitting on one of the long benches, drinking and talking animatedly with a group of tradesmen as though they were old friends. It had been a long time since she'd seen him so relaxed.

"Refill your cup, Milady?" a voice suddenly asked and she turned to see the stranger she had spotted earlier standing there holding a pitcher. He somehow looked even more handsome than he had before although she was uncertain whether to attribute that to the flattering lantern light or the wine swimming round her head.

"No. No thank you," she replied hurriedly, holding her hand over the top of her cup to punctuate her refusal. Why she should feel the need for such an abrupt gesture of mistrust was unclear but the stranger didn't seem to take offence. He placed the pitcher down and then sat on the bench next to her in far too familiar a manner.

She shuffled away a little but not really as far as she probably should.

"Pity," he said with a slight shake of his head and she began to believe he was talking about her subtle rejection of him before he continued, "It's fine vintage this year too. And I should know, I sell it in three counties."

"You're a merchant?" she asked, realising that would indeed explain why she did not know him, allowing curiosity to overwhelm her slightly uncomfortable feeling.

"Best wine merchant in all of the North," he said importantly, "I was up here looking for business when I heard about this festival. Did a good deal and got an invite to for my troubles."

"And the wine you sell is very good?" she asked conversationally, not entirely sure why she felt the need to carry on talking to him, only that he was someone that didn't know her and that felt oddly good.

The mischievous smile that had previously caught her out had alighted his face once more.

"Why don't you tell me? It seems like you're well on your way to finding out."

She knew she blushed slightly although from the heat she already felt on her cheeks she was sure it wouldn't be noticeable against the rose tint the wine had left there.

Caution gravelly warned her that she did not know him at all, that his unsubtly manner should be guarded against and that she should be offended by his words. He was a stranger after all and she knew nothing of his character. And yet she talked to him some more, light talk about his business and goings on in the shire. He was an easy man to converse with, charming in a slightly roguish sort of way. Her sensible head counselled her against him, telling her that he was all together too charming and far too much of a rogue especially with her mind not as clear as it should be but, to her own surprise, she found her mind easy to ignore for once.

"You're very beautiful", he said all of a sudden with no prior warning that he was thinking such a thing let alone prepared to say it so brazenly.

She was about to stumble some kind of thank you, wondering how she could and still make it clear that she didn't consider that an appropriate thing to be saying to her when his next words thankfully saved her the trouble.

"I mean," he added with a grin, "I thought all noble women were supposed to look like their horses."

"Well," she said a little tartly, half grateful he'd given her something real to be offended at, "I can happily inform you that that isn't always so. If you'll excuse me..."

It was a poor excuse to leave, she knew that, but at least it was one and it would satisfy the warning voice in her head that kept trying to tell her she should end this acquaintance right away.

She rose to go but felt an instant tug at her sleeve, stopping her with the lightest of touches.

"Oh don't be like that," he said carelessly, making it clear he'd meant no harm, "Come on, shouldn't be any offence in an innocent compliment now, should there?"

She barely heard his words, instead focussing on his hand for a moment, his fingers holding the material of her sleeve so delicately. Guy often tried to stop her walking away from him and he always pulled her back with a firm tug to the wrist which she would tell him hurt if she was going to confess such a thing. Robin used to do the same too only with admittedly less force. This man however held her sleeve lightly and one sharp pull from her would have released it. He was giving her a choice and, in the end, that was why she chose to stay.

She wondered if he knew that but he gave nothing away as he smiled, pleased when she sat back down.

"Here, have another drink," he said, reaching for the pitcher, "This is supposed to be a night for letting your hair down and being free, right?"

She was about to protest that she did not need another when she noticed that her cup was indeed almost empty, sips she had taken without even realising it as they'd talked.

He poured. A large cup and she never once told him to stop.

"My father must have paid you a good price for this," she said after yet another sip she probably shouldn't have had, "It is very fine."

"Your father?" he said with sharp curiosity, "So not your husband then?

"No."

"You're not married?"

"No."

She smiled a little, even though she now definitely knew she shouldn't. Her words came out a little teasing even though they shouldn't either. She blamed it on her head light with wine for it was the easy thing to blame.

"I don't see how it's any concern of yours if I was," she added her tone soft and playful in a way she almost no longer recognised.

Her manner seemed to make him smile and she was almost sure he shifted a little closer to her but the move was subtle enough to make her uncertain.

"Well I wouldn't want an irate husband thinking I had less than honourable intentions towards his wife now, would I?" he reasoned with an easy grin.

"I would hope," she pointed out lightly, "You didn't have any less than honourable intentions towards me regardless."

"Absolutely not..." he swore solemnly, but she didn't completely believe him and a small thrill inside told her that she rather wished she was right not to do so.

"So," he continued, "I don't mean to be funny but what is a lovely young lady such as yourself doing without a husband? Too many eligible young nobles off at war, eh? Or was it some scoundrel who broke your heart?"

It was a little of both of course but she would not admit it to him nor would she wish to remember it tonight.

Fortune once again saved her.

Tom, the carpenter's boys was only sixteen, tall and gangly and very sweet. He arrived in front her with an all too solemn look and a deep and sweeping bow.

"Lady Marian, would you do me the great honour of dancing with me?" he asked grandly.

She was rather in two minds, smiling uncertainly before he added to her in a quiet whisper, "Please? The other boys said I wouldn't have the bravery to ask you and that you certainly wouldn't say 'yes'."

"Well then," Marian said with determination, deciding that there was no harm in it after all and grabbing at his hand after having taken one last sip of her wine, "We shall have to show them then, won't we?"

He was just leading her away to the clear area between the tables when she paused a moment, looking back at the other man.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Allan," he said instantly.

"Well, thank you, Allan."

He looked genuinely perplexed, "For what?"

She simply smiled and allowed Tom to lead her away.


	3. Chapter 3

Mentally he had to kick himself. What did he go and tell her his sodding name for? It was stupid and careless and risky. He supposed it was the drink. Maybe it had dulled his mind. And she was sweet and charming, he had to give her that. Enough to loosen any man's tongue he'd wager.

Bloody women.

Part of him was almost resigned to give her up when she went to dance with the boy but a much larger part was too intrigued to stop now. There was something undeniably interesting about her, something that pricked at his curiosity. For sure, she wasn't like any noble woman he'd ever met. True, he didn't have vast experience of women of class and the ones he had met he had never liked, what with them looking down their often too large noses at him, but he knew enough to realise that she was different from most. He had the distinct feeling that she was hovering on the brink of doing something wild, inhibitions struggling to hold her back and a less than chivalrous part of him wanted to be the one to push her over that brink and see just what she would do.

He could almost see it right then in the way she danced so merrily, laughing as she was twirled, the villagers encouraging her by clapping heartily to the beat. She was like a trapped bird waiting to be set free and, on the evidence of that night, simply required wine and song as the key.

He laughed at his own thoughts, wondering when he'd become so sickeningly poetic.

He sat for a fair while, testing his resistance as watched her dance until his desires, as they often did, got the better of him. He wanted too much to know more about her. It was too daring a challenge to give up.

Besides, he still hadn't gotten his kiss yet.

Interrupting her and the boy as one song ended and another began, Allan deftly moved the younger man aside and took her to him instead, one hand in hers and the other at her waist. He braced himself momentarily for the sharp sting of a slap but it didn't come. She certainly felt tense in his grip but didn't show any sign of wishing to be elsewhere, obviously willing to follow where he led for now. It was a good start indeed.

"Sorry boy," he said with a grin, talking to the lad but his eyes on the lady, "You can't keep the finest woman here to yourself all night. Besides I think she owes me a dance."

"I do not," she said although her protest was made ineffectual by the hint of a smile.

"Course you do," he explained brightly, "For whatever it was you thanked me for back there."

The smile grew then and, seeing that she clearly had no objections, Tom left them to it with a grin of his own.

Allan could tell that she had had her share of the wine. Not as much as him but certainly enough to bring some rose to her pale cheeks and to make her the slightest bit unsteady on her feet as he whirled and skipped her around, giving him the perfect excuse to hold her a little tighter. She was surprisingly athletic for a noble woman and he guessed that she must just do a lot of riding or something. He very much doubted that she had done anything like a hard day's work that could have honed such a figure.

Yes, she must do a lot of riding indeed to get the sort of body the cut of her dress hinted so tantalisingly at. Rarely had he seen or felt finer form.

On closer inspection he came to another conclusion too; she didn't seem like someone who had done a lot of laughing in a while, although he wasn't entirely sure how he knew that. Even so he had the distinct feeling that she hadn't been as merry as this in a long time and it made him feel strangely and rather worryingly good to think that he'd helped in that, getting rather warmer as her smiles beamed alternatively at those around her and at him.

He caught himself before he drifted too far into sentimentality, finding it most disconcerting, and he shook his head slightly, trying to clear his thoughts so all that remained was his goal of a kiss.

She looked at him a little curiously but said nothing.

They danced with gusto, two songs before she protested with a laugh that she must stop because she was getting dizzy. Grinning broadly he led her to a nearby bench before announcing that he'd get her another drink.

"No, I shouldn't," she said shaking her head.

"Just a small one," he insisted, "Help you get your breath back. I haven't finished with you yet."

She gave him a bit of a look.

"In the most honourable possible way, of course," he clarified with a grin and she seemed to smile in spite herself in return.

As he crossed to the opposite table and poured two more pitchers of wine he hesitated a moment, looking back at her as she watched the dancing continue, clapping along with the music. A moment of doubt hit him. She was a sweet girl and he didn't want to put her in a bad position or tarnish her reputation. But, he reasoned, it wasn't as if they were alone and the people here didn't seem at all bothered by her dancing with him. And he just needed a little more time to get that kiss. That was all he wanted and there was no real harm in it.

Besides, he chuckled to himself, she looked like she could do with a good kiss.

So he poured the wine, a little more than a small cup, grinning broadly as he walked across and handed it to her, sitting down even closer than before.

* * *

Marian was sure she could feel the heat radiating off of her companion as he sat down next to her which probably indicated that he was far too close. But no one seemed to care. No one shot her any disapproving glances or seemed to be whispering about her behaviour so why should she worry?

She wondered briefly if actually they were, if the gossip the next day would be about Lady Marian's wild behaviour with the stranger the night before and that she simply didn't see their reactions now because she did not wish to. In the end however she decided that it didn't matter and gossip be damned. If dancing and laughing were scandalous then she hoped to cause a lot more scandal before her days were through for this was the best she had felt in a long while.

She sat and talked to him again, more laughter in their conversation now, more frivolous matters discussed. She relaxed, leaning back a little against the edge of the table instead of sitting so poker straight as she had always been taught. It was a small rebellion but it felt rather good all the same.

When yet another new song started up to a loud cheer from all those assembled, Allan grinned and grabbed her hand without warning, pulling her towards where many others were already lining up in pairs for what was obviously a well known favourite.

"Come on," he encouraged, "It's traditional."

"But I don't know it," she protested, hanging back a little, slightly embarrassed and too keenly reminded once more that she was an outsider here even though it was her home. It was odd really how he was the true interloper and yet seemed to belong far better than her.

Not to be defeated, he stepped closer to her, his free hand on the small of her back pushing her onwards, his persuasions not so subtle now.

"Then I'll teach you," he insisted with the sort of easy grin that she was increasingly finding irresistible.

If she was to be asked later she'd have had to admit to remembering little of the dance at all, the steps and patterns all blurring into one. She was sure that she was horrible at it, making too many mistakes, and yet no one seemed to mind. Allan's arm was increasingly firm at her waist and he seemed to be pressing closer to her every time the steps brought them together but somehow it never felt inappropriate nor, if she was truthful, unwanted. Even her father seemed at ease with it all, simply smiling at her as when she caught his eye as she was whirled between the columns of people once more.

Her world was spinning in more ways than one but it felt good. It felt free.

The dance ended with another huge cheer. She let out a small gasp of surprise as they finally stopped spinning and only Allan's quick hands prevented her from tumbling to the floor from dizziness.

"Easy there!" he said with a laugh.

She laughed too as she gripped on to the front of tunic, feeling his heart pounding through the material, his breath still a little short from the effort. She wasn't in much better state herself but even her seemingly more vigorous exploits as the Night Watchman somehow didn't make her feel as alive as this.

Even as a child she had always dismissed tales of the full moon turning men and women wild but now she began to wonder. She certainly knew that in that moment, with a few more sips of wine to strengthen her courage, she may just have given in to the sudden and unbecoming urge to kiss him.

Considering what happened next it was fortunate she did not.

"Marian."

She felt her whole body grow instantly tense, suddenly and acutely aware of her current condition and how it must look to an outsider's eyes. The life that had been flowing so freely seemed to drain away in an instant, locked back up in a cold box and she suddenly felt almost guilty at the impropriety of her situation.

The greeting was formal and stilted and when she released her grip on Allan and turned to look at her visitor his expression seemed to be something akin to distaste, most likely directed at her company rather than her. He appeared to be wondering why she would associate herself with people so below her own class. If only she had the opportunity she would tell him very firmly that in that moment she would rather spend a thousand lifetimes with good, honest men such as this wine merchant than she would one minute with him.

"Sir Guy," she greeted steadily, pleasant but not particularly welcoming. She hated how easily the mask she seemed to wear every day slipped back into place.

"Forgive me," he said eying the festivities around him, many of which seemed to have cooled slightly in his presence as if his uncomfortable manner was affecting them all, "I did not realise that I would be interrupting such a gathering".

Feeling uneasily as though too many eyes were suddenly upon her, Marian placed a hand on his arm and gestured towards a quieter area away from the others.

"Perhaps we should remove ourselves. I'm sure you would not want to interfere with the dancing."

"Of course not."

She was very grateful indeed that Allan did not follow them.

When they stopped he just stood and looked at her, arms crossed, an imposing figure in black much darker than the night itself.

"So, I see you are well again," she said eventually, uncomfortable with silence between them and his glances that felt almost like scrutiny.

"Yes."

"You must have been quite ill," she continued, not for the first time finding his taciturn manner most difficult to deal with, "We have not seen you for many weeks."

Which was in all honesty something she was very grateful for. She knew his family had fallen from grace and power and that he had not grown up in the surroundings that perhaps he should. As well as being a source of pity she also often believed it was the explanation for his awkward manners, particularly around her. He had not had much experience of noble ladies in his youth and so had never quite learnt the way to deal with them. And yet, despite his obvious difficulties, he persisted in trying to strike up a friendship with her, with a hope of more it seemed even though she did nothing to encourage it. It was becoming tiresome and, the longer it continued, frankly a cause for concern.

"Indeed," he said, "But I had a fine physician. He said it would be unwise for me to accept visitors in case I should pass the fever to them. I'm sure I would have seen you at Locksley much sooner otherwise."

"Of course."

She wondered if he could see the lie in her eyes or if he only saw what he wished to.

There was silence again for a moment that seemed to last far too long.

"Well since you are returned to health now," she continued as brightly as she could muster, "Perhaps you would like to join us."

She had no desire to invite him to stay but could think of little else to say in order to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation. And, if she allowed her head to rule just for a moment, there was also sense and reason to consider too. Sir Guy was in league with the Sheriff and it was prudent to remain friends with him. She had to be dutiful and gracious for her father's sake at least. They did not need any trouble and she courted enough already every time she risked being caught as the Night Watchman.

"No," he said looking around him, obviously not as comfortable with this type of gathering or company as she, "No thank you. I just need to speak to your father. I have a message for him from Nottingham."

She nodded, leading him politely towards where her father sat. She briefly thought that perhaps once Guy was gone she could find her companion again, dance some more and forget all about this little intrusion.

But she knew with a heavy heart that she was fooling herself. Those free yet fragile moments were ruined now and there was no getting them back. She was Lady Marian, daughter of the former Sheriff and noble woman of Nottingham. She was not free.


	4. Chapter 4

It was odd how quickly a change of mood seemed to change the situation around her. Whereas before she had found the celebrations light and refreshing now they seemed to smother her. Even after Guy's departure his presence continued to have an effect and she could seem to feel nothing but oppression from the freedom displayed around her, so tantalising close yet ultimately out of reach.

Eventually, able to stand it no more she retreated to the stables. Her horse had thrown a shoe a few days hence and had seemed a little lame ever since. Checking on him was as good an excuse as any to leave the festivities behind for the night. Soon, she would slip quietly back to her room, feigning tiredness if her father asked, and try to forget all about the joys of dancing and blue eyed strangers.

And so she should, she tried to convince herself, wondering again if her behaviour had been inappropriate after all. Her conviction had felt so strong before, had so firmly told her that there was nothing wrong with having fun, but now she had her doubts. Guy often seemed to do that to her; make her doubt herself. She sometimes wondered if she was a fool for so coolly rebuffing his advances. He was not unhandsome and was in a position of power and wealth. Any woman should be pleased to have such security and devotion offered to her. But to give in to him would be to deny who she was and she couldn't do that even for a comfortable life. Besides, she had the strongest feeling that should he know the real her he would not be so enamoured.

Brushing the horse down should have been therapeutic but only seemed to serve as a conduit for anger and she had to be careful not to hurt the animal by being too vigorous. Her disappointment at the ruining of her evening seemed easier to deal with when she could be so cross though, directing her temper fully at Guy.

She was angry at him for breaking the spell of freedom the night had previously held for her, even though her sensible head was telling it was for the best or in the heat and whirl of the moment she may have done something unbecoming. It wasn't even as if he had said anything really, he'd just brought her back to the reality of her situation far too brutally, reminding her of who and what she really was.

And that was the crux of it. She was simply angry at life itself. Angry at the perceived unfairness of it all. Silly boys could go off to war, they could choose their path and which causes they wished to fight for. She had few choices in life and the longer she lived the more limited they seemed to become.

Trying to temper her anger with concentration, she worked more determinedly on brushing the horse down, fetching a small stool so she could reach his back properly and resolved to erase imposing men in black and foolish boys at war completely from her mind.

She hitched her skirt up when she stepped down again, careful not to tread on the material in case she tripped.

"Nice legs!" said a sudden voice, full of amused approval.

She instantly turned to spot Allan leaning nonchalantly against a post and gave him a sharp look, annoyance hiding her surprise and barely wondering how he had managed to sneak in so quietly.

He smiled in an unconcerned manner, "I meant the horse."

She huffed a little but said nothing. He was the last person of all she needed to see in her current mood. She needed no reminder of the fact that her merry freedom was gone. He however did not seem to pick up on her disposition or if he did he firmly chose to ignore it.

"So, was that your betrothed?" he asked casually, taking a few steps closer to her.

"No," she said firmly, balking at the idea and a little disturbed that anyone would ever think that by looking at them. She certainly hoped it was not the impression their interactions gave out, worried that perhaps she was unintentionally giving Guy the wrong idea of her affections after all. She was also the slightest bit ashamed that Allan would believe her capable of behaving how she had tonight if she was already promised to someone. She may not like the choices she had in life but if she was forced in to one she would be honourable to it.

Allan's smile was still easy and knowing.

"But he'd like to be," he pointed out with a confident nod.

Of course she knew that but she certainly did not like to hear it confirmed.

"I don't think that's any of your business," she replied sharply, trying to make him see she that she no longer welcomed him or his company.

"No," he agreed, still annoyingly pleasant and apparently not at all put off by her manner, "But I'm curious all the same."

"I think," she suggested tightly, brushing the horse once more, "You should get back to the celebration."

It was as clear as she could be without being rude that she wished to be left alone. Still however he did not take her hints.

"Maybe," he said, his tone a little kinder now, a little less cocky, "Just wanted to see if you were all right though. You looked upset."

It was unfair of her to be annoyed with him because of that but she couldn't help it. It wasn't his place to be concerned for her and she certainly didn't want anything like pity from him. She didn't want anyone to realise just how much she'd needed her moment of freedom either and how Guy's interruption had affected her. It felt like weakness to admit it and she would not be weak.

"I wasn't," she stated firmly, back still to him, ignoring him.

"Yes you were."

"You don't know me," she replied coldly, playing the role of the lady who was offended that such a man would speak so freely to her now that it suited her to do so, "Stop presuming that you do".

He either had no notion of impropriety or was bold enough to not care what she wished for. Instead of leaving her be as she would have wished, he stepped closer.

"I think I know you a bit better than you'd like," he suggested with quiet assurance, standing just a pace behind her as she continued to furiously groom the horse and try to block his words out, "You danced with me because it was a little bit risky. Because you knew you probably shouldn't."

She wondered if she had just been so very obvious or if he was simply a very good judge of character.

"You're bored with your life," he continued, his words almost a tantalising whisper in her ear now, his breath warm against her skin, "You can't see anything in your future to excite you or make your blood rush."

"Plenty of people live safe lives and are very grateful for it," she replied firmly, refusing to turn and face him as she was sure he would like, remembering once more that Guy offered her security and keenly aware that there were few women who had such luxury.

"But not you," Allan pointed out, all too assured he was right.

"Yes..." she said sharply, before realising her mistake, "I mean, no...I mean...Oh do shut up."

She heard him chuckle, could almost feel the vibrations in her chest he was standing so close.

"You're an interesting woman Milady," he said in that same easy tone that gave his words such an air of nonchalance even when he was being presumptions or vaguely insulting, "I'll give you that. But in the end you're not really that unusual, see? You're not only one who wants more but is too afraid to reach out and grab it."

If he wished to provoke a reaction from her he was very successful.

"I'm not afraid," she said with conviction, half wishing she could tell him about her exploits as the Night Watchman although not knowing why she felt the need. She certainly did not need to explain herself to him.

"Oh I give you credit for trying, of course," he said in an offhand manner, speaking as though he was half bored of her, confident that she was not the woman of passion and excitement that she had earlier pretended to be, "Admirable effort tonight to be sure but even the wine didn't give you quite enough courage to kiss me."

The audacity in his words almost riled her as much as the fact that he was right.

"I didn't want to kiss you," she said, her words full of as much firm denial as she could muster, as though if it sounded true it would make it so.

"Yeah, you did," he said with a quiet, confident laugh, "But you know as well as I do that the likes of you don't kiss the likes of me. It was understandable that you couldn't-"

If there was one thing that Marian hated it was people misjudging her and she could only blame a mixture of immense irritation and wine for what she did next. That and a wish to abandon herself to oblivion again even if only for a moment.

She turned, grabbed his face and pulled his lips directly to hers, hands instantly entwining in his hair as she silenced his insolent tongue with a kiss. She pulled back quickly after a sharp heated moment, her chest heaving with adrenaline, and looked challengingly into his eyes just daring him to speak ill of her again.

She could have laughed at the slightly dumbfounded expression on his face which told her that she had finally surprised him if only he hadn't recovered so quickly from his shock. Her heart was already pounding but when he grabbed her, pulling her flush against him and kissed her hard, she was sure it would break free from her chest. It wasn't as if she had never been kissed before but this was something different, something illicit and plainly wrong and rather than making her feel ashamed it just seemed to make it all the more exciting.

"I warned you," she mumbled between hard presses against his mouth, "Stop presuming that you know me."

"Trust me," he replied, as his hands planting themselves too firmly on her hips, "I will not be making that mistake again."

She knew she should stop, that she should be ashamed of her actions, but she couldn't. She needed this. She needed to kiss away the crawling feel Guy had left her with and the bitter memories of Robin who had left seemingly without a thought of her.

She knew they risked being caught but she barely cared. The feel and taste of someone who desired her, who wanted her for her wild side, was too wonderful to ignore.

* * *

Allan had to admit that he was shocked at first. It certainly hadn't been part of his plan. His words were meant to be gentle persuasion, to get her to agree to a kiss simply so that she could prove him wrong. He had no idea that she'd be so bold as to initiate it herself though. Still, as always he recovered quickly and instinct immediately took over, telling him to take advantage of this surprising turn of events. 

He kissed hungrily at her wonderful, willing lips. God, it had been too long since someone had kissed him like this. So long he had almost forgotten what he was missing. This was certainly a most pleasant reminder.

He hadn't even known her name until that Sir Whoever He Was had spoken it and now he half mumbled, half moaned it as her tongue pressed against his, drawing out more desire in him than he'd expected. She was a beautiful woman to be sure but there was more to it than that. She tasted like wine and something soft and forbidden and it was more intoxicating than the drink and the warm night air mixed together. She was risk and risk was what got his blood flowing the hardest.

She was much more passionate than he would have expected too and it drove him on as his hands skimmed feather light over the curve of her waist and hips. He tried desperately to memorise the feel of this glorious woman in case in a wine fuelled haze all memory of it was lost in the morning but he doubted however that any memory would live up to the reality of it.

Instinctively he pushed her back against the wall of the stall, mouth travelling down her neck, across her collarbone and just brushing the swell of her breast, revelling in the feel of soft skin under his lips.

"I won't..." she gasped, her words firm even though the small groan of pleasure that escaped her seemed to suggest otherwise.

"I know," he agreed, "It's just a kiss...or two..."

His baser instincts told him to dip his mouth lower, to allow his hands to slip up and undo the ties of her dress. It would be so easy to push that dress from her shoulders and take her to the floor. Despite her protests he believed that she would not have the will power to stop him if he tried to take this further and if she hadn't have said anything he was certain by now that he'd be exploring more of that soft flesh of hers. But he wasn't and firmly ignored any urge to do so. She had said she didn't want that and it was the one refusal he would allow her to have this night. He may be a scoundrel but he drew the line at being that kind of man.

Besides, settling for a kiss such as this was a fine second prize.

Her hands were in his hair then across his face, neck, back and chest, seemingly unable to settle anywhere for long. He wondered if she'd been with a man before but he doubted it. She was adventurous to be sure but she was unmarried and didn't seem the type to be so free with herself. He was more than certain that this was not the first time she had been kissed though and by the way her fingers danced over his torso that she was not totally unknown of the male form either.

A torturous groan formed in his throat as she wriggled against him, his blood pounding furiously and his lips a mixture of hungry and disappointed that they could not feel more of her.

Maybe if he asked her just once. Maybe if he gave her the choice. There was passion between and even if it was only meant to last this night it seemed madness to waste it. He could teach her such things and with such a fiery spirit as hers he was sure she'd be a good pupil.

Fate intervened however and any and all thoughts of suggestion came to an abrupt halt when a voice was heard no more than a dozen paces away.

"Marian?"

And her glorious lips were gone, the air rushing out of him as he hit the floor, shoved down behind the stall and out of sight by strength he would have barely given her credit for. He hardly noticed the sting in his backside as she shot him a quick glance that was half apology and half a plea to stay hidden. He had no desire to see her in trouble and so he did as her eyes asked him, staying perfectly quiet and still.

"Father," she greeted, surprisingly able to rid her voice of any trace of awkwardness or guilt at so nearly being caught out. It gave Allan the distinct impression that she was in the habit of lying to the man.

How the lord of the manor didn't notice that his daughter's hair was a mess where Allan had run his fingers through it and that her dress was slightly awry where his hands had been exploring her with increasing fever was a mystery. Perhaps he just attributed it to her vigorous dancing. Perhaps he was just far too trusting.

"Gisborne has gone you know," he said kindly with no indication at all that he suspected anything was amiss, "You don't need to hide in here."

"I'm not hiding," Marian softly insisted, her voice even and giving nothing away, "I was just tired."

"Well then," the old man said, "Let us say good night to our guests and return home, hmm? I have to admit I do not have the stamina for these gatherings that I used to."

He waited for her and she had no choice but to follow.

Allan crawled carefully to the edge of the stall, peering around just in time to see her look back at him with a slightly wistful look on her face before she turned the corner and was gone.

* * *

The night was late when he brought the horse to a stop, so late that it was really early morning. The celebration had finally come to an end an hour or so ago and people had retired back to their houses, intending to do the evitable tidying the next day. Allan would be gone by then of course, thankful that with a few games and a few opponents who had had too much to drink, he had won himself a horse and so had saved a long walk. 

Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to leave without pausing by her window.

Sitting there for a moment he almost gave in to the temptation to climb up to her room, his lips still tingling when he thought about her kiss. God he wanted to go to her. He'd probably get pushed out the window for his troubles but it almost seemed worth it for the small chance of having her beneath him, to feel those little gasping breaths of hers on his bare flesh. If she put that much passion into her kisses then he was certain that she'd be a passionate woman all round and the thought made him shift uncomfortably in his saddle.

But, he realised with some regret, their moment was lost and he had a feeling that she would not welcome him as warmly as she had done back in the stables.

So, in the end he just grinned and rode away, deciding not to ruin what had been a very good night by ending with an undoubted slap in the face. Even he knew when he was pushing his luck too far. Besides, he might just come back this way one day. Maybe she'd be married and bored by then and be more open to the excitement of a stranger. Well a near stranger at least. It certainly would be nice to have a challenge to return to.

* * *

When she first saw him again in Nettlestone as one of Robin's gang, nearly a year since she'd last laid eyes on him, she'd blushed, momentarily losing her composure in an onslaught of vivid memories before catching herself once again. 

He gave no hint that he recognised her and so she assumed that he didn't. Perhaps he had drunk too much that night to remember the face of the lady who had kissed him with such unbridled passion. The thought that he could so easily have forgotten left her with a mixture of relief and disappointment.

And then he'd said it, months later and without warning as she'd rode up, needing to talk to Robin about a matter of importance.

"Nice legs!"

She was instantly flustered, heart beating wildly for a moment, but managed to cover it up and gave him a sharp look which the others would likely interpret as mild offence. Her eyes just dared him to say more before she remembered that he was not intimidated by even her fiercest of glares. Thankfully he seemed to have no wish to embarrass her though and so stayed silent if seemingly a little smug in his knowledge that she had once done something with him that she would likely not want Robin to find out about.

At home that night she gave in to the temptation and opened the draw, bringing out the corn dolly she'd been given as a gift on that Summer's Eve. It was a reminder to her, holding memories of a night when she had been bold and free. Of when her lips had stolen a brief but thrilling victory.

Robin believed he knew her so well, believed that he knew her spirit and temperament better than any other. Little did he know there was a man in his very camp who knew that that was not quite the case.

Allan didn't know her either but he had seen a side to her that Robin never had and from her point of view that was rather empowering. It was a secret she would hold on to and even when Robin was at his most irritating and patronising she could remember it and smile, realising that however much he professed to know her that there would always be a tiny bit of her spirit that he knew nothing of, that was all hers. The part that danced so merrily and kissed strangers in stables. The part that would always be completely herself and completely free.


End file.
